River & Wrackspurt Episode 68
by shosier
Summary: Lee Jordan & George Weasley aka River & Wrackspurt have been broadcasting a show on the Wizarding Wireless for months, dedicated to educating the magical world about popular muggle music. This show is a tribute to someone near and dear to them both.


Author's Note: I can't imagine Potterwatch would ever end – instead, it evolved into _River & Wrackspurt_. While none of this furthered the plot of my original story, I have about a dozen (maybe more) of these shows in my head, at least. Please don't bother telling me you hate the songs or the bands: I certainly don't expect them to have universal appeal. I think each of the songs on this show _do_ have something to say however about George, and Fred as well. The lyrics, as well as the songs themselves, are easily found online, if you're interested. This is a one-shot companion piece to my longer story, _George & Annie: an Unofficial Biography, _if you're interested in more....

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**Transcript**

**River & Wrackspurt**

**Episode #68**

**April 1, 2001**

_RIVER: Welcome once again to River and Wrackspurt, the show committed to introducing wizard folk to the wonderful world of muggle music. In today's episode, children, we'll be featuring some oldies but goodies. Today's eclectic collection is dedicated to an old mate, who accidentally through no fault of his own had semi-reasonable taste in music. _

_WRACKSPURT: Right you are, River. We've got some excellent punk, both homegrown and imported, from the seventies and eighties; a real classic from one of the most popular British muggle bands of all time, and some alternative stuff from the nineties, not so very long ago._

_RIVER: Heavy on the American tunes, this go, Wrackspurt. We begin with the Ramones, a seminal American punk band we've featured here on the show before. Are these boys really all related to each other, Wrackspurt?_

_WRACKSPURT: No they are not, River, despite the fact they share the same last name. I believe they were being clever, mate._

_RIVER: Here's "Blitzkrieg Bop," a song older than I am, for your edification._

_(song plays)_

"Fred and Annie used to scream this song together, whenever they heard it," George said with a soft, sad smile. "He used to play along on air guitar, not knowing what the hell he was doing, and Annie would laugh at him until she cried."

"He was a pisser, for sure," Lee chuckled. "Remember when he pinched all of Umbridge's knickers from the elves, enlarged 'em with an _Engorgio _charm and replaced the Great Hall banners with 'em? I thought that cow was gonna have a conniption! For sure her head was gonna explode or somethin', I reckoned."

George guffawed with the memory. "She _had_ to know it was one of us, and I thought he'd really done it, that time. She was gonna hang him or me for sure, maybe both. But then he just kept makin' eyes at her all day, blowin' her air kisses, remember? Like those hideous girdles were the sexiest things he'd ever seen – turnin' him on. She didn't know what the hell to make of it. I can't believe we got nothin' for it. Not even a line!"

The song ended, and Lee took the microphone once again, nearly gasping for breath from laughing.

_RIVER: Now here's a treat for you, dear ones. "Blister in the Sun" is a lovely little ditty by those irrepressible Yanks, the Violent Femmes. I dare you to be in the throes of puberty and not adore this band._

_WRACKSPURT: Ah, River, those were the days, were they not? Bad skin, worse hair, a voice that can't decide its register…. Who doesn't remember those days fondly?_

_RIVER: You, for one. You were a miserable sod, if memory serves. Pining away for the future Mrs. Wrackspurt._

_WRACKSPURT: Like you were any better. Who asked you anyway?_

_RIVER: Can't argue with you there, sir. For all you children who think teenage angst and heartache are something new, listen up._

_(song plays)_

"How did we survive it?" George asked his friend. "All that misery?"

Lee was quiet for a few moments, staring at his fists in his lap. "I wanted to kill him, you know. When he took Ange to the ball…."

"You should have asked her first, instead of being such a chicken-shit," George needled him. They had had this conversation more than once before.

"I knew she'd say no," Lee argued.

"You knew no such thing!" George protested.

Lee smirked dubiously.

"You forgave him, though," George said a few moments later.

Lee snorted. "What else could I do? He was just Fred, being Fred. Can't blame a dragon for breathin' fire, can you?"

"And she wound up with the one she belongs with," George added after a minute had passed.

Lee smiled. "Yeah. That's true."

_RIVER: Now we come to a band that, if you've been paying the slightest bit of attention at all over the past year and a half…_

_WRACKSPURT: Unless, of course, you've been living in a cave, in which case welcome back to civilization…_

_RIVER: You will have heard these boys numerous times on our humble little program. Here is "White Riot," from The Only Band That Matters…._

_(song plays)_

"Art loves this song - squeals when the siren comes on," George chuckled. "And little Fred jumps around, crashing into stuff just like he knew what slam dancing was."

"Annie's raisin' 'em right, then. Every child of the Realm should listen to The Clash from birth. Oughta be a law, I reckon. Maybe even _before_ birth," Lee argued. "I used to put the speaker right next to Ange's belly, so Roxy could hear it…."

"Fred worshipped them, remember?" George asked after another chuckle. Then he paused, staring off into space a bit. "I think that's why Annie does it: so they'll share something with him."

A long pause followed while they listened to the song.

"I hate that they'll never know him. That he never met them," George whispered.

"You can't dwell on stuff like that, George," Lee insisted.

"How am I supposed to ignore it?" George pleaded. "Tell me, please, because I'd fuckin' love to know."

"I don't know, mate," Lee mumbled apologetically.

George threw his head back, staring at the ceiling. "Sorry I'm being such a jerk…"

"You're not being anything," Lee interrupted, reassuring him. "Today is a sad day. I understand, mate. Frankly, you've done better than anyone could ever have expected. Plenty of people who didn't lose anything near what you did are still wallowing in it."

George bowed his head as Lee was speaking. "Ah, shit," he mumbled, then pinched bridge of nose as a tear rolled down.

Lee grabbed the microphone after two seconds of dead air.

_RIVER: Here's the Dead Milkmen, with "Punk Rock Girl."_

_(song plays)_

George sniffed and shook his head vigorously in an attempt to dispel the grief. "Other days – holidays and anniversaries – are fine. Christmas is no big deal: the kids are the focus then, see? Not even May second – all those bloody memorials – 'cause it's for everybody, right? Nothing else hits like today."

A choked sob escaped his throat, and George pressed his palms against his eyes. "For chrissake, Annie can't even make me a goddamn birthday cake anymore because I start to fucking cry when it's just my name on the thing!"

"Why don't you take a break, man? I can finish up here," Lee urged him.

"No!" George nearly shouted. A deep breath and a few moments later, he continued with more composure. "I have to do this. It's like an exorcism, you know? It helps… I think."

A quiet minute passed.

"You know, I can't help thinking," Lee said with a smile, "that Fred would've been takin' the bloody mickey out of you right now. 'Pansy-ass baby girl,' he'd call you. He'd punch you in the face without a moment's hesitation and give you somethin' to cry about."

George laughed. "I know. He was a prick with the emotional depth of a flobberworm," he said, drying his face. "Maybe that's just what I need, though," he said with a sigh. "A good kick in the ass."

"It would've killed him to go on, but he would have. Just like you are," Lee said quietly. He pressed another button on the console, and the next song on the list began to play without being introduced. Slow guitar and drums rang through the little room they used as a broadcast booth, and Mick Jagger began singing, "_I'll never be/ Your beast of burden_…."

"You think?" George asked, knowing Lee was probably right.

"Well, he'd be burying his sorrows in a parade of bimbos, make no mistake…. But yeah, he would."

They paused for a few moments, listening to the music.

"I could probably name ten girls listening to this song, each of them right now remembering spending a night with him. He used to call this a 'sex anthem,'" George said, rolling his eyes. "'Nothin' drops the knickers quicker than the Stones, George,' he'd say."

Lee shook his head ruefully. "He wasn't even that good lookin'!"

"Thanks, asshole," George chuckled. "You're not exactly Witch Weekly's Sexiest Wizard Alive, yourself."

"I'm serious!" Lee laughed, amused by his unintended joke, as well. "How'd the bastard get so much?"

George shrugged. "How the hell should I know? I wasn't even gonna play the Stones this year, but Verity requested it."

"_Verity_!?" Lee cried, incredulous.

George cringed. "Shit… it's supposed to be a secret, okay? Forget I ever said anything, would you?"

"She _told_ you?" Lee hissed, further astonished.

George shook his head. "Don't be stupid! Of course not! Annie guessed a while ago, but I wasn't convinced until this year, when Verity told me she knew how much Fred liked this song, and how I should maybe play it today."

Lee started laughing. "The man is legend! I'm surprised there isn't a disease named after him!"

"Seriously, Lee, keep your damn mouth shut about this," George said, trying to remain serious but having difficulty stifling a chuckle. "I don't think she knows I know."

"How many do you think…?" Lee asked, marveling.

"Even if I had a clue, I wouldn't effing tell you, Lee!"

Lee chuckled wickedly.

George couldn't help himself; a smile spread across his face. "You know how much he was prone to exaggerate, anyway."

Several quiet moments passed after their laughter died away.

"Do you think he ever…?" Lee asked, unable to put the rest of his thought into words.

George shook his head, understanding his meaning immediately. "You know Ange better than that, mate."

Lee nodded to himself. "Right."

The song wound to a close, and Lee took the microphone once more.

_RIVER: That was… well, for Merlin's sake, you all ought to know who that was, shouldn't you?_

_WRACKSPURT: And shame on you if you don't. I think from now on, if anyone fails to recognize a Stones song, they should be forever cursed with the word "git" tattooed on their forehead._

_RIVER: Sounds appropriate, Wrackspurt. Now, let's turn our focus westward once more to the West Coast of America. Here's a bit of what the muggles call "grunge" from the nearly a decade ago. This is "Come As You Are" by Nirvana._

_WRACKSPURT: River, I reckon this band had a stranglehold on what it meant to be an angry youth in the 1990s. _

_RIVER: This particular version is from a live, acoustic performance. Do enjoy, children._

_(song plays)_

"Annie wanted me to invite you lot for dinner," George said.

"Sure, if you want," Lee replied. "What's she making?"

George shrugged. "Dunno. Come over around six?"

Lee nodded. "I'm bringing a cake with your name on it," he said without looking at his friend, pretending to examine a new CD case George had brought along with him today.

"I'll shove it in your face, I swear," George warned him.

"I want some goddamn birthday cake, git," Lee teased, smiling. "So get your shit together and smile while we all eat it."

"You're a prick, you know that?" George retorted, laughing.

_RIVER: Wrackspurt, why don't you introduce this one? I find I cannot bring myself to do it justice._

_WRACKSPURT: All right, River. Here is, for my galleons, one of the best American exports of all time. These gentlemen brought to hip-hop – which is a dubious enterprise at best, to my mind… _

_RIVER: I've got to disagree with you there, Wrackspurt…_

_WRACKSPURT: And all I can say is everyone's entitled to their wrong opinion. Anyway, as I was saying, these gentlemen brought a level of intellectual discourse that was hitherto missing from said genre. They lifted it from the quagmire of gangland criminal exploits and anti-feminist rants about sexual conquests to wax poetic about tolerance, life in a multicultural metropolis, liberation from parental oppression, and robots. Here is "Sabotage" by the Beastie Boys._

_(song plays)_

"I used to hate this song, before I ever even heard it for real," Lee groaned, turning down the volume in the room. "Where did he even hear it?"

"Blame Annie for that one," George chuckled. "She bought it that summer before the Tournament, figuring Fred and I would like it. I did at first, but I admit Fred ruined it, that following year at school."

"It was cool for one week, how every time he walked into the Common room he screamed, "Listen all y'all: it's a sab-o-tage!" Then it was just kinda funny for a few more days. By Halloween, I swore if he did it again I was gonna bind his effing tongue."

"If Fred had a fault, it was that he never did develop a good sense of when enough was enough," George agreed.

"That was part of his genius, though," Lee argued. "Pushing a joke from funny, to old, to annoying, to _really bloody _annoying, then to hilarious again. Like when he bewitched the blokes in Ron's autographed Cannons team photo to start makin' out with each other whenever he walked into the room, then stuck it damn near permanently in that frame."

"Oh, God," laughed George, remembering Ron's furiously pouting red face at the time. He could be a bit oversensitive when it came to the Cannons, to be sure.

"First it was a riot, then mildly amusing, then kinda sick, then so effing funny I couldn't even look at it anymore without nearly pissin' myself."

George snickered and dabbed his eyes. At least these tears were from laughter, this time.

"You _almost_ started to feel sorry for the poor guy," Lee continued through his laughter, "'cause Ron was pissed as hell about it. But then it was just too damn funny and you laughed, which only served to piss him off further. How was it Fred got the soundtrack to stick so well? Never heard such loud, sloppy snoggin' sounds."

"I did that bit. I'll show you, sometime," George confessed.

_RIVER: Children, there is a magical place across the ocean, over the mountains and through the desert called Southern California, USA. There on the shore of the Pacific Ocean is a city of angels that calls to all thespians, musicians and beach bums the world over._

_WRACKSPURT: Someday, Mrs. Wrackspurt and I will surf those waves, River. Mark my words!_

_RIVER: Everyone deserves a dream, Wrackspurt. Glad to hear you have one._

_WRACKSPURT: In my opinion, which is the only one you need listen to, Sublime is one of the best bands ever to come out of the glorious surf-ska-punk-reggae-whatever stew. Lend me your ears, young witches and wizards, and I dare you to contradict me. This is "What I Got."_

_(song plays)_

"A bit racy for the WWN airwaves, this one. You're ponying up the galleons for the fine, this time," Lee warned him. "I can't remember – when did this one come out?"

"Summer of ninety-seven," George replied, instantly recalling the pub in Bantham where he had heard it first. His brother had hooked a raven-haired university coed that night, and had received what was for all intents and purposes a lap dance to the tune. Fred and the girl left the pub as soon as the song was over; George and Annie didn't see or hear from him for two days afterward.

"Liliana's got a pretty little roommate, George," Fred had told him eagerly when he had finally stumbled into the Wheezes the following Monday morning just after they had opened the doors for the day.

"And I care why?" he had replied testily, having just stumbled back from Annie's himself a mere twenty minutes before.

"They're both very liberated, open-minded girls," Fred chuckled conspiratorially. "And they both fancy redheads, if you read me."

"Are you attempting to set me up, or just boasting again?" he asked with no small amount of exasperation.

"Either way suits me fine," Fred said with a shrug. "Come on… live a little!"

"Annie's right: you are a pig," George said, unamused. "I'll pass."

"That's right. Be a good little girl," Fred retorted, rolling his eyes.

Lee's voice brought him back to the present. "Ninety-seven? Just before…"

"The shit hit the fan at Bills' wedding. Yeah," George replied. "Let's just say Fred certainly believed in making hay while the sun shined that summer, and leave it at that."

_RIVER_: _Ladies and gents, our time together is once more nearly at an end. As we mentioned at the beginning of the program, today's music is dedicated to the memory of someone very near and dear to your hosts' hearts. Sadly he has gone to his reward, as they say. _

_WRACKSPURT: Gone but not forgotten, and dearly missed. Like so many of us who have lost loved ones recently, not a day goes by that we don't think of him, and others like him who made the ultimate sacrifice for a greater good. This final song is dedicated to each and every one of those heroes over the past thirty years or more that have fought the good fight, and those of us left behind to remember them. We leave you this week with "Gone Away"' by The Offspring._

_(song plays)_


End file.
